Rowan's Class Reunion by David Lee © 2017
In Grandma's black and white world, everything happened for a reason; nothing was left to chance. If something occurred that you couldn't understand, you had to trust that it had a purpose. Rowan Parsons' philosophy of life was quite the opposite. To him, it seemed that life was made of random events that sometimes coalesced, but often simply went off to die in some obscure place without having affected anything, kind of like all the sperms a human male produces in a lifetime which lead to only a few progeny, or sometimes none at all.
With Rowan's upcoming five-and-a-half-year high school class reunion, he wondered if he should go to see what everyone looked like by now, or skip it all-together. He had attended that high school for only his senior year, and didn't have the attachment to it that most of the graduates did.
The event was supposed to have been their fifth-year reunion, and should have happened in the summer, but was finally coming off in early December due to a computer glitch which had wiped out all the contact information, necessitating its being painstakingly redone. The class secretary, who had failed to keep a backup copy, would forever after bear the brunt of blonde jokes.
The prospect of returning to his old school stirred up memories of 12th grade; some bringing a smile to his face, and others reawakening a pain in his heart.
Because his father was in the military, the family had moved several times in his growing-up years. Their nomadic existence had forced him to become an outgoing kid who had to make friends easily, but who didn't dare get too attached to any of them, knowing that their ways would part before long.
He'd been a boy of average height and weight with shaggy, dirty-blond hair and blue eyes. He was neither strikingly handsome nor homely. His acne hadn't been any worse or better than that of his peers.
The length of his hair was, in part, a personal statement against military discipline, but not rebellion against his father. Chad Parsons felt that his mission was to preserve freedom so that kids like his son could express themselves without persecution, especially if they happened to be gay, as he suspected Rowan might be.
Rowan may have had a nonconformist streak, but did well academically, and enjoyed playing football. He wasn't big enough for any number of positions; however, he did have the ability to kick field goals, and that garnered him considerable recognition on the team in his senior year.
It was an incident in the locker room early that fall which led to a relationship which still lived in his mind. College, and his budding tech career, had blunted the details to an extent, but the scene still played in his head when he least expected it to.
Some of the guys had been teasing Braxton Blake, the star quarterback about the size of his manhood. He was a tall lanky kid who had black hair, dark eyes, and a five-o'clock shadow most of the time. In addition, he was well-hung, and it seemed like his dick was perpetually semi-hard, which made it look huge in comparison with his trim waist and tight butt.
Braxton was proud of his assets, and usually took the ribbing good naturedly, but for some reason he snapped when the new kid, Rowan, joined in the bantering.
"You want this piece up your ass? I could split you in half with it!" Braxton shouted, waving his cock in the face of the seated boy.
"Nah, I'm sure it's really not all that big if it ever goes soft. I can probably match you inch for inch with the right stimulation. If anal sex fascinates you, would you like me to shove this up your butt?" He stood, removing his jock and revealing a piece that was nothing to be ashamed of.
"Shut up, fucker! I ought to punch you out!"
"Hey, don't mess with me! I know karate, kempo, hibachi, and several other Japanese words!" Rowan laughed. "Look, I'm sorry I opened my mouth. I was just trying to be one of the guys; I didn't mean to piss you off. Truce?"
His self-deprecating joke about his self-defense abilities defused what might have become an ugly situation, and he gained a little respect with his teammates in the process.
Both Braxton and he dawdled in the shower, and were the last ones left in the room when they finally got dressed.
"I gotta hand it to you, Parsons, you've got balls!"
"Oh, you noticed; I'm pretty proud of them," Rowan grinned, cupping his package.
"Man, you just don't quit, do you? I don't expect you to grovel, but you're supposed to show me respect because I'm a big, tough stud. However, you're evidently not impressed. You don't take shit off anyone; I like that."
"Yeah, I tend to open my big mouth and sass back when someone's trying to intimidate me. I guess I'd rather chance getting beaten up than to live in fear. After being smacked around a few times, I've become a reasonably good judge of character. I can usually tell which guys are mean all the way through and which have a tough outer-shell, but are sensitive on the inside, and you're in that last category. I've been watching you."
"Man, you're scary! Are you some kind of shrink with mystic powers? Don't spread it around that I'm sensitive. Most of the guys fear me. That's how I survive in this place."
"The guys on the team may be afraid of you, but you'll make it through life on your good looks and kind heart. You don't need to build a wall around it."
"You're an interesting guy. Do you wanna go home with me and have a snack? I'm starving, but I'd like to talk more. My old man works late tonight."
"Sure, but are you scared to be seen with me in a public place like McDonalds?"
"Maybe a little. But, I have stuff in the fridge that won't mess up our bodies like a burger would, and I like my privacy. We'd get interrupted there."
"Okay, lead on, McDuff."
Their after-practice rap session turned to out to be enlightening for both. Rowan found that his assessment of Braxton had been correct, and Braxton had allowed himself to open up more than he had with anyone else in his life. It felt scary, but good. He'd never before connected with another guy so quickly or so intimately.
Within a couple of weeks of eating lunch at the same table, where some of the football jocks usually gathered, the two were completely comfortable with each other. Braxton wasn't worried about what anyone else thought of their friendship. They were occasionally seen out having a sandwich at Jimmy John's or some other eatery.
The only teammate disturbed by this emerging association was Bram Hough, a defensive lineman who thought of himself as Braxton's "lieutenant." He was jealous that someone else was becoming close to the popular young quarterback. Bram had always been the guardian who controlled access to Braxton.
Knowing that Braxton might resent him if he openly did anything to Rowan, he tried to find ways to harass or humiliate him when Braxton wasn't around. Most of the time, it didn't work. Rowan was too quick on his feet, and had too sharp a wit for Bram's attempts to succeed.
One day, when Rowan had sassed back over some nasty comment, Bram lost his temper and came at him, intending to beat the crap out of him. It was perfect timing because Bram's girlfriend and her friends were there to witness how tough he was.
After he lunged at Rowan in order to land the first punch, he suddenly found himself on the ground. Rowan may have joked about his martial arts skills, but they were evidently real. Having been humiliated in front of witnesses, Bram's anger, and recklessness, increased three-fold. Added to that, Rowan warned him that he could get seriously hurt if he didn't leave him alone. Now, Bram was determined to destroy the kid.
If Bram properly harnessed his weight and momentum, he might demolish a full-sized Buick, but he charged with reckless abandon. Rowan used his force against him, deftly stepping aside as he helped propel Bram toward a concrete bench that stood in front of the building – the one that Bram had intended to push him into. Bram lay on the ground crying in pain from the ribs he broke upon impact.
When the campus policeman came to sort things out, Bram claimed that Rowan had attacked him, unprovoked. That lie didn't hold up for long, as students shared the videos they'd taken of the encounter. In one of them, Rowan's warning could be clearly heard. Bram faced detention for starting a fight, and was sidelined for the rest of the football season, mostly because of his injury.
The fallout from the fight turned the tide entirely in Rowan's favor. He wasn't in trouble at school, his stock with his peers rose to an all-time high, his father was proud of him for standing his ground, and Braxton seemed to be in awe of him.
"Man, I thought you were joking when you said you knew martial arts. I saw a video of the fight, and you totally kicked his ass! You were so cool; you didn't even get your hair messed up."
"I honestly didn't want to break any of his bones. If he hadn't charged at me with so much force, it probably wouldn't have happened. I did warn him."
"Maybe it will teach him a lesson in the long run. Since the fight, some other guys have told me that he bullied them. They were afraid to tell me earlier because they figured I'd back him. I hate to think I've created an image like that. If I'd have been more secure, I wouldn't have relied on fear to protect me. I've changed a lot since knowing you.
Indeed, Braxton had changed. He had let Rowan in on a deep secret, and Rowan had admitted to feeling the same way. Both enjoyed literature. For many of their peers, it wouldn't be in character with the masculine image they projected. How could guys who were dripping with testosterone have a love for that kind of stuff?
It had first come to light when they were assigned to read "The Kite Runner" for their language arts class. Students were expected to choose a partner to work with in discussing each chapter, using a study guide of questions to help them focus. When they finished reading the book, they would write up a report based on their observations.
Several girls wanted to team up with them, but they had already agreed on working together when their eyes met across the room in non-verbal communication.
"Thanks for saving my ass, Bro," Braxton whispered as the two settled into a corner of the room to plan their strategies for the assignment.
"What?"
"Emma Drahos was heading my way to get her hands on me."
"Is that a bad thing? I heard guys in the locker room say she gives good head."
"That might be true, but I'm not sure I want my dick where so many others have been," he chuckled. "Besides, I want to do this with someone who has smarts, so I can get a good grade. I need to succeed so I have no problem getting into the university. Don't get me wrong; I'll work hard too. I don't expect you to do all of it, I just don't like carrying a twit on my back.
"Um, could we work on it at your house. If my dad comes home early, he'd probably think I should be studying with a girl, and trying to learn more about anatomy than literature, if you know what I mean."
"Okay, I have no problem with that. If we use my room, we can close the door and have complete peace and quiet."
And so, their friendship grew over the next few weeks. When grades were posted, theirs were the highest in the class. Since the teacher used ID numbers instead of names, only they knew their grade. Other kids might ask how they did, but they simply shrugged and said they'd done okay.
Having worked so well as a team, they felt they might benefit from studying together on a regular basis. Braxton became a fixture in Rowan's house, and was welcomed by the family. Everyone loved having him around.
Once, he got stranded there by a snowstorm and spent the night and most of the next day. That was the only time they had the chance to sleep together. Rowan's bedroom had twin beds, but he hadn't had anyone for a sleepover in his new school. He didn't know the others that well, and some of his peers felt they were too old for that sort of thing, so it wasn't cool.
The two didn't go to bed as early as they would have normally on a school night, but since classes were cancelled for the following day, they stayed up and talked for a couple of hours. Both had hopes and fears for the future.
"I wish we were going to the university together," Braxton said. "I'd switch and go with you if I could. Grandpa Morton won't help pay for my tuition unless I attend his alma mater. My dad doesn't value education because he didn't finish, so he's not helping at all. I'm not good enough to get a sports scholarship at that level. I might have gotten one at a small college, but then the costs would be too high and offset it."
"Yeah, I know. If I go to DeKalb, it won't cost a lot since it's a state school, and we've got it pretty well covered with some scholarship money from them. I can't switch either."
"I'm gonna miss you!"
"I'm gonna miss you too!"
For a split second, as they stood to get ready for bed, Rowan thought that Braxton was going to take him in his arms. He certainly wouldn't have resisted. He craved the contact, but was afraid to initiate it. He didn't dare lose his first best friend.
On top of that, they would have to go their separate ways next fall. That's how it always was; Rowan could never count on any kind of continuing relationship. Life kept changing directions.
Changes did come with college, some of them minor but others profound. They began their freshman year by texting each other frequently. Exchanging tidbits about their lives helped them maintain a feeling of togetherness despite the miles that separated them.
Rowan's father was transferred again, so he didn't go back to the town where Braxton lived during the holidays. He managed to get to Chicago for a day, and the two enjoyed exploring the city together. Some contact was better than nothing. Yet, when it was over, Rowan felt that fate was going to cause them to drift apart.
He was right. Their communication waned during second semester when both got extremely busy with coursework, and when summer jobs took them even farther apart, geographically, it almost stopped entirely.
Life went on. After seeing a photo of Braxton and his girlfriend on Facebook, Rowan knew that his wishes would never be fulfilled. Perhaps he should face reality and find a girl too. Maybe it was the only way to partake of the American Dream.
Amy was a sweet, vivacious blonde who was well-liked by everyone she met. Rowan couldn't believe that she was interested in him. They met when they were assigned as lab partners in biology. Both attended a study group that some of their classmates formed to help learn the subject matter.
Their relationship evolved slowly over their sophomore year. They began to eat together with a bunch of others before study group. Gradually, some stopped that practice for one reason or another. By February, it was often just the two of them.
He asked her to the Valentine's Day dance, and she accepted. It felt kind of good to show up with her on his arm. Their pictures looked great. They made a handsome couple.
After several other dates, it looked like this might be their future. However, Rowan held back. He didn't want to string her along in case things didn't work out. He wasn't using her for a beard.
They kissed, but he never made out seriously or tried to take her to bed. Amy thought he was a perfect gentleman, but began to wish for more intimacy. She wondered if something else was going on.
One night when their kissing led to more passion, she could feel his erection swelling in his shorts, against her thigh. She had gone on the pill recently, preparing for an occasion like this to arise.
"My roommate is gone for the weekend," she whispered. "We can go there."
"I don't think we should do that."
"Why not? Is there something wrong with me? Am I being too aggressive?"
"Nope. It's me; you're fine."
"Is there another girl, one back home?"
"Nope," he said, gazing steadily into her eyes.
"Then what is it – a boy?"
Rowan's momentary blink betrayed the truth. He still carried the torch for Braxton, and the more serious his relationship became with Amy, the more he knew this wasn't the direction he wanted to go.
"I guess I can't compete; I don't have the right parts," she quipped, trying to hide her distress. "You probably miss his big dick."
"It's not like that; we never... I'm sorry!"
"You don't have to apologize for something you can't help! I still care about you, but now I know it can't work out like I thought."
"Can we still be friends?"
"Maybe, eventually, but I need time alone to sort things out. Please take me home."
"Yeah, I understand. You'll have a better chance to meet the right guy if everyone knows we're not together."
"Yeah, I suppose..."
After their "breakup," Rowan decided to more actively explore his gay side. He visited a few glory holes he'd discovered on campus. The most active one was on the third floor of the library. It was away from the busier sections, and not close to the help desk.
In that time, he fed his cum to more than one willing participant, but never reciprocated. He feared he might catch something, and he felt if he continued, it would be a betrayal of Braxton, silly as that might be.
Once he did have an experience with another guy that confirmed his orientation in his own mind. He had gone to the old gym to work out instead of the newer rec facility on campus. It wasn't as popular and was far less crowded. The new place had a lot of coed facilities, like the sauna and steam room. In the old one, they were attached to the locker rooms and segregated by gender. Therefore, they could be used nude.
The heady scent of sweaty male bodies seemed to permeate the walls of the old place. It reminded Rowan of high school, and Braxton.
While he was lying naked in the dimly-lighted steam room after his workout, another student entered and struck up a conversation. The other guy didn't hide his burgeoning cock, and the sight caused Rowan's dick to swell too.
After a couple of minutes, they tentatively touched each other's equipment. That led to mutual masturbation which didn't stop until both had blown big loads. Both were shaking, and the other guy beat a hasty retreat.
Rowan sat there for a few minutes, composing himself. He wondered if they would repeat their moment, but he never saw the guy again.
After that, Rowan mostly found relief by watching porn clips on his laptop, and taking himself in hand.
To distract his mind for dealing with his orientation, Rowan threw himself into his studies. His grades were among the top of the class for his junior and senior years.
Upon graduation, he had no problem finding a well-paying job as a computer programmer for a utility company in Wisconsin. He now had the promise of a chunk of the American Dream, but still felt an emptiness in his heart.
Perhaps a nostalgia trip back to the northern suburbs would be good. He didn't know a lot of his former classmates very well, but his mother had encouraged him to go. She had suggested it would be an event that might lead to finding a special someone with whom he would have some things in common. He wondered why she was pushing him, but had to agree that his year there had been one of his best.
It was only a couple of hour's drive, but the drab landscape between the cities didn't do anything to improve Rowan's mood. Perhaps he should have saved his money instead of booking a room in the hotel where they were having their celebration. He could afford it easily enough, especially with the special rates offered to alumni, but would it have been better to have put it into his "house" fund? His small apartment was adequate for him, and he still didn't have anyone to share a home with if he were to buy one.
Oh well, he was almost at his destination. He could cancel the second night if he wanted to. It would be good to have a place to crash after the dinner and festivities, and the leaden sky threatened to dump a load of snow any minute. Staying in a warm, luxurious space would be good.
Rowan's room was even nicer than the picture on the web. It was the same price as one with two queen beds, but since he had no need of them, he had chosen the one with a king-sized bed and a comfortable sofa. The ample space made him think that perhaps he would enjoy living in a more commodious home, even as a single man.
Downstairs, he picked up his registration materials and found a drink to help him relax.
The first person he ran into, after getting a glass of wine, was his old nemesis, Bram. This looked like a bad omen! However, Bram came over to him with his hand out to shake.
"Rowan, it's great to see you! You look better than ever. I guess I should begin by apologizing for my treatment of you in high school. I've grown up a lot, and allowed myself to be who I am. I'm not living a lie, and I'm not pissed at the world anymore. I want you to meet my husband.
"Avery, please come over and get acquainted with my old teammate, Rowan. He's the one I was telling you about who straightened me out.
"Rowan, this is Avery Blake-Hough. Doesn't that name sound distinctive?"
Rowan shook hands with a handsome man who looked enough like Braxton to be his brother. Assuming that "Blake" was his original surname, there had to be a connection. In that moment, several things became clear to him.
"Avery was a year ahead of me in college, but he stayed to work on his master's so we could be together. I'm not sure if he loved me too much to leave me, or if he didn't trust me out of his sight, but either way, it worked."
"Bram, I'm very happy for you! It must have been scary coming out."
"It was. My father and Avery's father were, are, both homophobic as hell, but we didn't let that stand in our way. Our moms and sibs love us.
"Please join us for dinner."
They walked across the hall to the large ballroom which was set up with lots of tables with eight chairs at each. From the amount of seating, it looked like most of the class must have decided to attend. Of course, many of them would be there with spouses or significant others, so that could account for the large number of places.
He was wondering where they would sit. So far, Bram was the only member of the football team that he's seen. Perhaps this wasn't their scene. They reached the table and were about to be seated when he felt a hand on his arm. He turned to look straight into Braxton's dark eyes.
"I was hoping your mom had succeeded in getting you to come," he grinned. "I asked her to do her best."
"I'm glad you wanted to see me enough to involve Mom," Rowan responded as they embraced. "It's been too long."
His heart was pounding so loudly that he thought everyone in the room must be able to hear it. He took a seat quickly because his knees felt unsteady.
"Ah, you're drinking the same wine I am. Let me get us another glass," Braxton said as he hurried off.
"Wow! This is a surprise," Rowan commented to Bram and Avery. "Did he come alone?"
"No, he came with his cousin and me," Bram grinned. "If you're asking about his spouse, that didn't work out and they divorced recently. Fortunately, there weren't any kids to get hurt in the process."
Braxton returned with their wine and proposed a toast.
"Here's to true love, may it never die."
The four clinked glasses and took a sip.
Dinner was excellent, and with their tongues loosened a bit by the alcohol, their conversation about their senior year, and some of the events of the last few years flowed freely.
Of course, they didn't feel like they could bare their souls since there were four other people at the table. All were congenial, and the conversation remained light.
After dinner, there was a short video presentation featuring the highlights of their senior year, followed by a valiant attempt at singing the school fight song. If the words hadn't been on the screen, few would have made it through.
Then everyone had to get arranged on the risers for a photo of the entire group. After that, there was a disc jockey playing songs from their high school days for anyone who wanted to dance. Bram led Avery to the floor, but Braxton and Rowan wandered out to sit in the lobby where it was quieter. The large glass wall surrounding the entrance looked out on quite a scene.
"Look at the snow coming down out there! I probably won't be able to go home in this," Braxton sighed.
"It's really beautiful, but treacherous as hell. I don't think you should hazard it.
"Remember the night of the big snow storm when you slept in my room?"
"Of course, how could I forget. We spent another whole day together because the streets were so bad. My father was pissed with me. He thought I could have gotten home somehow, instead of being `shacked up' with another guy."
"So how is your father, by the way?"
"Restlessly roaming the earth, dragging his chains behind him, I guess. With his attitude and violent temper, I'm sure God wasn't eager to have him, and the Devil didn't want the competition. He died last year."
"May I offer condolences?"
"Please don't. We both know he screwed up my life, and yours along with it. He couldn't accept me for who I was, and I wasn't strong enough to stand up to him."
"What's done is done."
"Does it have to be?"
"Perhaps I should rephrase that. What's past, is past, but it can't control the future if we don't let it. Yet there's always a roadblock. You're located here, and I live in Madison."
"I know that, but I put in for a transfer to the Madison office after I found out you live there, and it's been accepted. I'm looking for a cheap apartment in a decent neighborhood – two opposing requirements, I know. I had to buy my ex a sporty new car as part of the deal. My lawyer said I should hold out, but I just wanted it settled forever. So, I've got a little debt to pay off before I can find something better."
"I live on the east edge of town in a complex that's pretty nice. You could probably find a place there. Mine's a one-bedroom on third floor, but there's a little office the others don't have because it's over the stairway. A guy could put a small bed in it."
"Are you saying you'd let me live in your little extra room?"
"I would, but only if you'd rather sleep there. I have a queen-sized bed, and I'm thinking of investing in a larger one.
"We've never even kissed, but I've never gotten over you."
"Same here," Braxton responded with tears in his eyes.
"Let's continue this in the privacy of my room. Shall we go find the others and tell them we're making an early night of it?"
"I'll leave them a note when I get my stuff from the room they booked in case the weather got bad, or anyone drank more than they should. They'll appreciate it if I'm not there to inhibit their lovemaking."
Rowan and Braxton went up to Rowan's room. They showered separately and put on boxers to sleep in. With the light low, they stood by the bed like they had six years before.
Rowan took the initiative and pulled Braxton into his embrace. Their lips met. Braxton didn't resist!
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Author's notes: If you liked this short story, please let me know @ dlee169@hotmail.commailto:dlee169@hotmail.com .
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Thanks to Tom and David, my editors, who helped to make this tale freer of typos.
Thanks to all who responded to "What If" with your kind words. So far, I've received 33 emails!
David